After Thanksgiving, we dissected out the wishbone and dutifully gave it to our two eldest kids to snap.
You know the deal. Whoever gets the bigger half is gifted with a wish that will come true. (Which I have other issues with, by the way. I mean, thirty years later, I still can't fly like Superman. What's up with that?)
I digress. Anyway, I steeled myself for comforting the loser. After all, life is about all kinds of losses, right? In the words of large-mouthed English rockers, you can't always get what you want.
Anywho, they gritted their teeth and pulled. And this is what happened:
One of the "arms" got broken after the fact, but in essence, the two sides were equal. I was thrilled. And then I had a wishbone epiphany.
Why should one person's dream be at the cost of another's?
Which brings me back to writing and the machine that is the publishing world. We hear weekly about our writing friends' good fortune. A book sold, an agent snagged, a new novel e-pubbed with the masses downloading quickly in the nanoseconds of a mouse click.
But. This shouldn't take away from our own hopes and aspirations. Because I think the Wishbone Theory sucks. Our own hopes don't need to be lessened by the success of others.
Maybe we should have a "Wishbone Chucking" ceremony after Thanksgiving, to toast to hopes and wishes.
All in favor, say, "Chuck away!"
Two last notes. Don't forget to join my 500's Followers Contest that ends Friday. Last chance for one of four gift cards at your local bookstore!
And do stop by Laura's blog today for this week's Sisterhood Blogpost on social media: what's your poison?